The mundane aspects of this world are inert; as they are a manufactured component of our perception as humans. What we perceive, with the capacity of which we are given, is simply a fabrication of what there is to be. It is a predicament that entails a provincial identity for the complexities of this world, an identity that dies along with the creator. There is no permanent, indefinite solution for the physique and nebula of this world; for the inhabitants are fallen creatures that can only give an ephemeral entity to these aspects of their surroundings. A myriad definitions reside, in a finite encapsulation of what is to perish one day, as the creator is intrinsically destined to disintegrate into the modality of oblivion. Perception is provincial, as identity is singular—thus defining the inept parts of this world as a dependent entity. A dependency of which, is to forever be governed by the longevity of human thought. Thought, to be thought, is to be lost; as it is a conscious within an unconscious realm—a fault within our perception; as it is only what is to be, but it is not to be what is to last.